I wanted to finish this chapter, because I will probably be out of the town and Internet for two days.

I've tried my best, people. Tell me if I succeeded.

Part 7

Jack was stunned for a moment, looking at his son in silence. The first thing that caught boxer's attention were Matt's eyes, since this time the younger man wasn't wearing his shades. After the accident Matt was wearing glasses almost all the time and Jack could hardly see his son's eyes, maybe in night, when the boy was waking up from a nightmare and called him from his bedroom. The funny thing was that if someone looked at these eyes, that person would probably not know (at least at first) that Matty was blind. It weren't those generic blank, gray eyes. These eyes had a color – a beautiful dark brown color, the boy inherited from his mother. But they weren't moving and that was the indication that little Matt Murdock was blind.

Now Jack was looking into those eyes, when Matt smiled sympathetically. They didn't change all that much – still dark, beautiful and unmoving, yet filled with emotion. The boxer found himself lost in them. Without his shades Matt looked even more handsome and even more friendly. It was like looking at the puppy. And for a moment Jack felt sad that those beautiful eyes can't see.

It was so weird to see his son here, in the gym. What he was doing there? He was supposed to be a lawyer, not a boxer. But Jack quickly reminded himself that the fact, his son was attending this gym didn't necessarily mean that he was fighting with anyone for money. Maybe he just wanted to work on his condition and this was a place, where he was feeling safe. And judging by his arms, the workout was effective. Those arms… they didn't belong to a weakling. His hands were moving quickly, making a loud thud noises, hitting the punching bag with proper force and precision.

Look, mister Murdock, it's not my secret to tell, but I do say this: Matt is stronger than you suspect. It's one of few things he got after you, sir.

A thought crossed Jack's mind. Maybe his son was attending this gym, because he wanted to defend himself from people who was hurting him.

"Please, don't be bothered by me, mister Battle." Matt said, coming back to punching the bag. "Feel free to ignore me and focus on your training. Because you've come here to train, right?" His eyebrows raised.

It would be so easy to just speak up and say: "Matty, it's me, daddy…", but Jack felt how the panic was raising inside of him once again. He knew, he couldn't go through this. Not being here, alone with Matty, not now. He wasn't ready.

So he turned back and put his hand on the doorknob… but before he could do anything, he heard Matt calling after him:

"Am I that intimidating, mister Battle?"

Jack quickly turned to him and froze. How did Matt knew what he was doing? Were his steps that loud? It seemed that somehow, someway, Matt was able to tell where the boxer was standing. Maybe it was something, his son learned after all those years of being blind.

Jack cleared his throat and with a lowered voice he finally spoke:

"No, I just didn't want to disturb you, mister Murdock. I will come back later."

"Please, stay." Matt said, smiling. Saying those words, he stopped hitting the punching bag and took a hold of it. "You're not disturbing me at all, mister Battle. And if you don't feel like training, we can just talk."

Jack knew this whole situation was risky and he still was on the verge of panic… yet some part of him wanted to stay here and talk. Just talk. About random things – about Matt's law firm, about his favorite books, about those little bits of his life that weren't very important to others, but Jack felt like it were the most important things in the world. With every passing second this desire was getting stronger and stronger, pushing the panic away. And soon Jack found himself approaching his son and leaning on the edge of the ring, few steps away from Matt. It was still making him nervous. The boxer could feel how his hands were sweating; he could hear his own heart banging slowly, but loudly. Matt sat beside him and Jack got even more nervous.

"You know, mister Battle," Matt began. "I was coming to this gym with my dad."

Jack felt how the temperature in the room dropped suddenly.

"He was a boxer. Maybe you've heard of him. Battlin' Jack Murdock."

"N-no, I… don't recall that name." Jack tried to maintain the lower voice, but he suddenly realized his throat was dry.

At first Matt looked like he wasn't convinced. Nevertheless, he smiled lightly.

"Of course, he was a minor boxer from Hell's Kitchen. And he was fighting mostly with minor boxers from Hell's Kitchen."

"Maybe that's why I've never heard of him." Jack tried to sound cheerful.

"He wasn't very famous. He was mostly losing on the ring." Matt's smile changed into a weaker one.

And Jack felt how his heart started to sink. He remembered the expression on Matt's face whenever he was coming back after another failure – paid or not.

"I'm sorry." He couldn't help himself. "it… must have been hard to not have a reason to be proud of your own father."

Matt's face expression changed into more fierce. He seemed to be offended by this implication.

"He might have not win most of his fights, but even when he was losing, he was standing on his two feet." He said and there was so much pride, conviction and… just love in the way he was saying it.

Oh, really? It's funny, you're saying that, mister Murdock, because I didn't get that impression from any of Matt's stories. What I did get was the image of a hardworking man, doing everything to provide for his family. A strong, tough man, who was standing on his two feet, even when he was losing on the ring. A man, who was teaching his son that he should use his head, not his fists. When Matt was talking about you, mister Murdock, I was always getting the feeling that he's very proud of you…

This time Jack felt warmth inside of him. So Matt really was proud of him. Guess, determination on the ring was something to be proud of.

"He once was fighting with a really famous opponent." Matt continued. "Creel. Have you heard of him?"

And right back to this sinking feeling.

"I think… I might have heard of him." Jack said shyly.

His Matty smiled again.

"It was my dad's greatest victory. He defeated him almost in one go."

Well, Jack wouldn't say it was in one go, but he couldn't help but grin at his son's words. This was why he was fighting that night (among other, more practical reasons). He wanted to see Matty being happy of his father's fight. No pity, no sadness hidden behind forced smiles. Just triumphant happiness over such victory. And Jack was hurrying so much to meet with the boy and see it for the first time in his life.

The numb memory of gunshot brought him back to reality. Jack saddened, remembering what happened next. And judging by Matt's expression and sudden silence, he remembered it too. Jack knew he had to do something.

"And you come here to be like him one day? As in – you want to be a fighter like your father?" It was only thing he could think of at that moment. But right after the boxer said it, he realized that he really wanted to know.

"Partly, but that's not the main reason." Was Matt's answer. "It's one of the few places when I feel good. Besides," He turned to his interlocutor and saddened. "my dad never wanted me to fight."

Jack was observing the young man in front of him. Yes, he never wanted Matt to fight, but looking at him, in that gym, with black eye and cut lip, he couldn't help but think that maybe Matty went against his father's wishes.

No, he didn't want to believe it. Matt couldn't do that. He wasn't like that.

Jack wanted to ask where this black eye came from. But he knew that Matt won't tell him. Of course, Matty won't open up to total stranger. Not about… whatever it was. Maybe later… Maybe when they will be over with all the secrets. Maybe when Matt will know that he had a father again. But not now.

Jack felt another urge to reveal himself, but he suppressed it.

"How about you, mister Battle?" His boy asked suddenly. "What brings you here?"

At first Jack didn't know what to say. Should he tell the truth? Or just say that he wanted to train. Well, he didn't want to lie. He already said few lies. He might as well add some truth to it.

"I wanted to think." He replied shortly. "I can think the best, while hitting the punching bag."

"I see. I'm like that too." Matt grinned, but then he saddened. "And I guess you wanted to be alone and my presence here ruined it."

"No, not at all." Jack waved his hands in denial, even though, Matt couldn't see this gesture.

"Should I leave you alone?" The younger man asked. "So you can train peacefully?"

Jack thought about it for a moment. To be fair, he didn't want to train anymore. Instead, he wanted to talk with his son.

"Actually, I don't feel like training right now." He finally said. "How about you, mister Murdock?"

"Well," Matt straightened himself and stood up. "I think I'm finished for tonight. So how about we go back to parish and ask father Lantom if we could get some coffee?"

Jack knew that return to parish, especially with Matty, might end badly to him… but he had nothing against spending more time with his boy. After all, they had so much to catch up with. So maybe they could go on a long walk, before they will come back to father Lantom?

The boxer proposed it to Matt. The lawyer agreed that it was a good idea.

"I will only change into my normal clothes and we can go."

And so he went to the locker-room. Jack waited three minutes for his son to change and soon Matt came out, wearing a black coat and his shades; with white cane in his hand and bag, hanging on the shoulder. He still had this sympathetic look in him, but lost some of it, due to his eyes being hidden behind those dark glasses. So little changes and how differently his son was looking.

Both men left the gym.

"So where do we go now?" Matt asked. And before Jack could respond, he added: "Oh, I know a really nice pizzeria down here. Come with me." And he started to walk down the street.

Jack put the hoodie on his head, trying to conceal his face, and followed his son. He hoped that the pizzeria Matty was talking about, wasn't ran by anyone, who would recognize him.

The air was cold, but Jack didn't feel it all that much. In fact, he suddenly realized that he was feeling warm. Maybe it was the fact that his hoodie was so thick, or maybe the closeness of his son. He remembered that he was sometimes walking these streets with little Matty – first pulling the carriage with the boy in it, then holding the kid's hand and finally walking beside him. Now, he was walking beside him once again, but this time it wasn't a little boy, but a grown up man. Come to think of it, this little trip was their first father-son trip since twenty years. It was such a shame that Matty didn't know that.

Once again Jack felt like he could tell his son, who he really was. And once again he decided against that.

They've reached the zebra crossing and Jack instinctively took a hold of Matt's arm to stop him. A second later he realized, he just touched Matt. He touched him for the first time since the awakening. And it left on him an electrifying sensation. He quickly withdrew his hand.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Why, mister Battle?" Matt asked, grinning. "You only wanted to prevent me from getting ran over by a car."

Jack felt stupid. Why it had to be so strange and difficult? Why he had to act that way around his own son?

"Come on." Matt said when the signal lights changed. "Pizza waits."

And so they went to the pizzeria.

They've ordered a medium margarita and just sat at the table. It was warm and cozy, and Jack just wanted to live this moment forever. Sitting there and talking with Matt – it was like a return to simple times. Maybe they could build up from the scratch. Maybe they could make it work. He would say sorry and explain everything and Matt will listen and understand, how much his father regrets waking up so late and not being there for him. Now Jack Murdock wanted nothing more than make up for all those years of his absence…

But he couldn't say any of those things. He wanted to tell his son that it is he – his dad. But he just couldn't. So he was sitting across his little Matty and looking at him as he was talking about his college years with mister Nelson; about a really boring book Matt was reading recently (well, technically he was listening to the audio book… technology was getting better); about this annoying way some people were reacting to his blindness. Apparently, Matt didn't like it, when people were walking on eggshells around him. Jack could understand that. Maybe it wasn't as infuriating as Jack's managers treating his son's blindness like the kid was broken or something, but it had some shades of pity.

And suddenly Jack felt the need to explain himself.

"Mister Murdock, I just want to say that during our last encounter… I didn't left, because you're blind."

"I didn't get that impression, mister Battle. Although, my partner did." Matt gave him another of his sympathetic smiles.

"Really?"

"Really." Matt nodded. "Can I ask why you've left?"

A moment of silence. Jack once again found himself speechless. What should he say? "I left because I am your long lost father and, seeing you after twenty years, I panicked"? Or maybe he shouldn't say anything.

"It's nothing." He finally decided. "It was a stupid thing to come to you, anyway."

"Oh, no, I don't think it was stupid. You've told mister Nelson that you need a legal help. I can't force you to come back, mister Battle, but I can assure you that whatever you came to us with, we would be glad to help you."

"I know." Jack smiled and looked at his son. "I know that you're a good man, mister Murdock."

Better than his old man could ever hope for…

After eating the margarita, they've split the bill (Jack insisted on taking care of the margarita's price, but Matt said that he invited him here, so bill should be on him; and after two minutes of arguing, they finally decided to pay for pizza together). Jack felt tired, so Matt proposed to walk him to the parish. The boxer didn't want to go there, after all, he would have to somehow avoid the priest, to whom he promised to not come out from his hide-out.

"I don't want to meet with father Lantom either." Said his son as if he was reading his mind. "I would propose my own flat, but it has a big, red neon, so sighted person wouldn't probably sleep well there."

Jack thought about it for a moment. Was he ready to spend night with his son, or was it all moving too soon?

"No," He said quietly. "I should come back to parish."

And so they did.


Standing at the gate to the church, Matt was listening to mister Battle's heartbeat and carefully examining his body heat. The man seemed to be nervous. Of course, Matt was aware that it was due to mister Battle knowing him. Earlier he was lying that he didn't know who Battlin' Jack Murdock was and he reacted funny when Matt told him that his dad was always losing with grace. But the most weird thing Matt noticed in his interlocutor was that he was silent after Matt told him about Creel… and then mister Battle's heartbeat suddenly got louder and faster. The story must have triggered some unpleasant memory in the other man.

Throughout this night with Matt mister Battle was jumping from nervousness to relaxation. He tried to act casual and there were times when he really was chilled out… but once in a while Matt was noticing a sudden change in the other man's mood and attitude. He was tense, he wasn't saying much, and if he did, it was a dismissive lie. He was hiding something.

Now he was tense too. And as much as Matt wanted to keep the promise given to father Lantom, he was dying to know who the mysterious mister Battle really was. The man's specific smell, his changed voice and all the little things about him weren't enough clues to give Matt anything. Of course, they were giving him one solution, but it seemed stupid, implausible and downright wrong.

There was slight chance that he will get the idea if he… but then again, it could also give him nothing at all. It wasn't like he touched every face of every person he ever met. Nevertheless, Matt decided to try. But he wanted to be civil about it.

"Can I read you, mister Battle?" He asked.

There was this again – the silence broken only by the heartbeat getting abruptly faster. So Matt decided to smile.

"I know it seems weird, but I would like to know how you look like. Of course, if you don't want to, mister Battle, I will respect that."

That seemed to calm mister Battle a little. He was silent for another couple of seconds and, judging by the tension hanging in the air, Matt suspected that he was going to refuse. Well, of course, he would. Not everybody was okay with strange man running his fingers on their faces. But Matt could also sense a hesitation. Just like the first time, when mister Battle didn't know whenever he wanted to shake Matt's hand or run away.

Then the man took a deep breath and finally spoke:

"I guess, it won't harm anyone."

Matt didn't know what made mister Battle to agree on it, but there was some kind of sympathy and readiness in his voice. Like he reconciled with something and decided that he couldn't prolong it anymore.

And so Matt slowly put his hands on other man's cheeks. The lawyer started to ran his fingers up mister Battle's face, registering every hollowness, every hillock, every wrinkle and every shape. With every touch, the pattern was getting astonishingly familiar.

Everything's so loud…

I'm here with you. It's dad. Here, feel my face. Feel my face. I'm right here…

He quickly realized that he could hear two heartbeats getting faster – mister Battle's and his own. He checked mister's Battle features again, focusing on him, instead of the sound of his own pounding heart. He had to make sure that what he was touching was really the thing he thought it was.

I've never studied. Look what it got me…

He was touching this face various times, when he was nine. Sometimes it was swollen and sometimes it was dripping with blood. But Matt could recognize the shape of this face anywhere. First time he touched it that horrible night in the hospital. The last time…

Dad? Daddy! Daddy!

Daddy! – this word was echoing in his head, just like various times when he was remembering the night his father was taken from him. He reconciled with the thought that he will never hear his dad's voice again; he will never smell the scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and talcum again; he will never feel this face again. Yet he couldn't deny that mister Battle's purposely lowered voice sounded like his father's; that the man's scent was exactly what Matt remembered from his childhood; and that the face he was touching right now, had the same pattern as his dad's face.

Tears started to ran down lawyer's cheeks and he started to sob, but he didn't stop the reading of his father's face, like he was trying to assure himself that the other man was still there, standing in front of him. He quickly realized that this face all of sudden got wet in area of the eyes.

"Dad?" Matt whispered with shaking voice.

Suddenly he felt how mister Battle – no, how his father – rested his own hand on Matt's cheek. Matt quickly recognized this hand too – this hand that was touching his face, poking his shoulders, resting on his head, whenever Jack was kissing his son's forehead.

"Please, don't cry, Matty." Jack said. This time his voice sounded normal, only a bit shaken from the emotions. "Because I will start to cry too."

Matt chuckled through sobs.

"You already do, dad."

"Oh, bagger." Jack chuckled too. And then he pulled his son into his large arms.